hardhearted | ic inbox ; exitvoid

I'm not asking you to do that. But it's likely he could know something important. [ Whatever that is, he couldn't even begin to guess. There are far too many what-ifs, and supposing this is likely to become a priority, he's going to have to sort out far too much himself. ] Keep your enemies closer - as they say.

[ You are your own worst, after all. He gives him a smug grin before dropping his eyes to stare at the bottle he's drinking from. His thumb rolls along the edge. ]

... isn't that Sam's choice?

What the fuck could he know, Cas? Apparently I screwed up and he saved the day. [ his past-self had been kind enough to drive that point home sweet and thorough. ] Our timelines are different-- we're the ones who're fucked, not them.

Sam can't ignore me forever either.

[ dean won't let him. brb going to empty this bottle now thanks. ]

You don't know that. [ Immediately, he jerks his head up and eyes him rather pointedly, oddly incandescent in that conviction. ] Things might be different, but it doesn't mean they are easy. You should take it into consideration.

[ Use him if he has to. However quietly it's implied, it's only there for a second or two, and then, it's almost a race to see who can finish their bottle first, though Castiel isn't as hellbent on downing the rest. There's already a slow burn in his gut anyhow. ]

Perhaps not. [ And he leaves it at that. ]

I fuckin' hope none of it was easy, I hope he hurt just as much as -- [ i ] -- we did. [ for a moment there's nothing but pure hatred in his voice, fueled by the alcohol. he hates his past-self, hates him for making it through, for getting to keep sam and be okay. ]

Either way, none of it matters here anyway, right? We're dead, they're not, and it ain't like we can just fuckin' hitch a ride with them back to their little paradise universe.

[ He sits there and simply takes it. Dean's anger and his hate, the words that mean everything and hardly scratch the surface of what it is he alone feels. He doesn't allow himself to, searching for that blissful numbness of the liquor he drinks. They're probably going to need another bottle.

So, slowly, he climbs to his feet and uses the edge of his bed as a guide, already a bit lightheaded from the way the previous stuff hums in his veins. Yet, he's practiced, and there's a little breathy laugh as he wiggles one free and works to get it open with oddly sure hands. ]

If you could, would you want to follow them? [ Back there, a world without an apocalypse. He tries to imagine what that's like, offering the alcohol out to him. ] Hypothetically, of course.

[ the question is unexpected, despite how dean had opened the door for it. it forces him to sit back where he'd started leaning with his anger, shuts him up for a good long minute. another man might say yes immediately, it's a new shot at life, of something they never had. and yet... ]

There's nothing for me there.

[ his sam is dead.

dean takes the bottle before asking; ] Would you?

[ He stands for a moment longer, looking at him and wavering a little as he considers it. Would it be worth it? A world without that kind of pain? Without-- Castiel blinks and pushes back, sitting heavily on his bed this time. ]

No. [ And carefully: ] Does that surprise you?

[ it does, and as much might be clear from the way his head snaps up at cas. ]

What? You get a thing for the death and destruction or something?

[ He gives the slightest shake of his head, gaze cast elsewhere. Anywhere but him. This isn't what he'd ever expected to happen between them--these words, like they mean something. ]

I don't feel the need to repeat myself. You know why.

[ a pause, and dean huffs quietly under his breath, like cas' stupidity dawns on him again. ]

That again. And if I did go? What then.

[ don't be pathetic, cas. ]

[ It's almost immediate the way he rolls his shoulders, a shrug that's both nonchalant and dismissive. ]

I don't know. I suppose inviting me, uhm, along would make no difference. [ A huff of a laugh. ] If it's what you wanted-- There are some things I think we deserve to have after all this.

[ And he wants that for him: peace. ]

[ dean's quiet for a beat at that. ]

What we deserve might differ.

[ dean doesn't deserve peace, despite wanting it. ]

[ He stays quiet too, thinking it over for a while, and finally, slowly, he just shakes his head again. ]

Why would either of us deserve differently?

[ he just looks at you, cas, because seriously? one of them had lead everyone to their deaths, the other followed. their crimes are very, very different. ]

Don't be stupid.

I'm only trying to understand. [ The counter is firm yet soft. He doesn't want to argue, but if this is where it's going to go-- Neither of them are innocent. ] Nothing would be the same there.

[ Much as it isn't the same here. ]

[ sigh. it's always the same, when they get to this topic. dean should know by now, but at the same time he wants cas to stand up for himself, to realize this chance he has to rid himself of dean. ]

I don't think you are. You're being stubborn for nothing.

[ His eyes shoot up, leveling with him particularly hard, and perhaps he is being stubborn. Still. ]

It was a speculative question. [ Hypothetical. Castiel stands, gripping his drink by the neck as he swings it up to take a drink. It's not smooth or polite, like it's his first time having something so strong. Absently, he wipes it away and tosses a glance in his direction. ] But it's not for nothing.

Whatever.

[ dean drinks from the bottle again, hissing quietly as it burns. it's starting to numb him good, and down to the core, just like he needs it to. soothes and quells some of those normally angry words he might be ready to spit out. ]

Whatever this is, it's good.

[ the drink. not...this thing between them. ]

[ His shoulders sag a bit with the dismissal, but all he can do is wave it off, humming in consideration even as he wonders what it is they're doing like this. ]

Thank the angel for that. [ He grins, looking down at the unlabeled bottle for a second or two before drinking from it again. ] I suppose he thinks we can, uhm, be friends.

You and him? [ the idea seems odd, but then, it's mostly because dean can't imagine being friends with his past-self, not for so much as a second. ]

And are you gonna?

[ His laugh is immediate and kind of bitter. ]

Do you think I should? [ Seriously, he's having a difficult time not spilling his drink out of the bottle because he's laughing so hard. ] He and I - we are too contrary to be anything.

Good.

[ it just sort of slips out before he takes another drink. ]

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